


We Stick Together

by Deejaymil



Category: Criminal Minds (US TV)
Genre: Alcohol, Disney Songs, Fluff, Friendship, Gen, Karaoke, drunk reid, pub night
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-10-09
Updated: 2015-10-09
Packaged: 2018-04-25 14:02:58
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,927
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4963462
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Deejaymil/pseuds/Deejaymil
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>All Reid wanted to do was go home and watch Doctor Who with a bowl of soggy cereal and his favourite pajamas. Instead, he somehow ended up matching Morgan drink for drink and steadily heading towards the drunken side of tipsy while Rossi sung Disney karaoke with a bunch of strangers. </p>
<p>He couldn't complain, not really, the night had turned out to be really quite... well, fun.</p>
            </blockquote>





	We Stick Together

**Author's Note:**

> Spencer Reid had intended to drag himself home, make himself a bowl of cereal for dinner and fall asleep on the couch watching reruns of Doctor Who. Somehow, he’d sat down for a moment and just hadn’t got up again, laying on the couch and staring at the roof numbly running over their most recent case in his head over and over. Had they gotten there sooner, less people would have died. Had he been quick enough with his logical reasoning? Was their profile solid? Did he do enough?

The light outside his window faded gradually, casting deep shadows in the gloom of his living room until someone began to knock loudly on his door. He ignored it, moving only to pull a cushion over his face and groan into it. It was probably next door wanting him to check her bathroom vents again; feeding him cakes and constantly repeating how useful it was to have a ‘strapping young man’ at her beck and call. He didn’t usually mind, but he wasn’t usually trapped in the whirlwind of his own eidetic memory.

“Spencer William Reid, if you don’t open this door right now I’m calling Morgan to come and kick it down.” Reid lifted the cushion off his face, scowling at the door and the person behind it. That sounded like JJ, but JJ wouldn’t rock up at his house in the middle of the night and try to knock her way through his door…

“She’s dialling,” came another familiar voice, Emily this time. “It’s ringing… ringing…”

“Morgan!” JJ shouted, her muffled voice issuing though the crack of the door near the handle, as though she’d leaned in close to the wood to help her voice carry. “He’s being stubborn.”

Reid pulled the door open and aimed his scowl at the two women, ignoring their identical, beaming grins. “Why are you guys here? It’s bedtime.”

JJ blinked and glanced at the cell in her hand. “It’s nine p.m.”

Reid squinted down at his arm, the blurry face of his watch glinting up at him. Apparently, he’d at least found the motivation to take his contacts out before prostrating himself. “It’s three a.m. in Brussels,” he mumbled, scrubbing a hand over his face.

Emily snorted loudly. “We’re not in Belgium, Reid. And you’re not dressed appropriately for the night we have planned.”

“Where are we going?” Reid asked, looking from one to the other before catching himself. “Wait, I’m not going anywhere. When did we plan to go somewhere?”

“Just now,” JJ replied, pushing against his chest and herding him back inside. He stumbled backwards, letting himself be shepherded up the hall and into his room before bracing his hands against the frame of his doorway. She raised her eyebrows at him, Emily looming behind with a threatening expression. “Now dress yourself, or we’ll dress you.”

Reid took two tentative steps back into his bedroom, considering his options. Emily grinned widely, trying to peer past him into the room. “Do you own any skinny jeans?” she asked sweetly.

Reid slammed the door shut.

 

* * *

 

“You’re dragging me out from a restful night in,” he grumbled into the car window, pressing his face against it and watching his breath fog the glass.

Emily was fighting JJ for control of the radio. She glanced back over her shoulder at him. He refused to look at her, could tell she’d turned to look at him by the tenor of her voice. “We’re dragging you out of your own head, Reid.”

JJ smacked Emily’s hand away and cranked the volume dial, drowning them out. “You two shut up or I’ll drag you both out of this car,” she shouted, tapping her hands on the wheel along with the beat. They pulled up at the bar and Reid slunk after the girls, having sulked the entire car-ride there in protest. His eyes darted about the room quickly, taking stock of everyone in the room, possible weapons, and any exits. They were subtle about it, but the girls did it too.

Even on their nights off, they were still federal agents.

Rossi turned in his seat, his face lighting up when he saw his three colleagues walking in. “Look what the women dragged in,” he called out jovially, winking at Reid. Reid stopped paying complete attention to them, narrowing his eyes and examining a stage against the wall set up with a couple of microphones and a TV screen on a stand.

Morgan and Garcia appeared behind them, simultaneously wrapping their arms around his shoulders and steering him into the booth, sandwiching him between them. Hotch sidled across slightly to let them in, elbowing Rossi for room. “What’s with the stage?” Reid asked suspiciously, already horribly sure of the answer as two drunken women staggered up to the mics and clutched them for support.

“Karaoke night!” Morgan crowed, pressing himself against Reid from thigh to shoulder and breathing beery breath into Reid’s face. The younger agent pulled a face at him, his days of flinching away from Morgan’s exuberance long gone.

“ _Disney_ karaoke night,” Garcia corrected, mouth tilted in a wicked smile, tucking a lock of his hair behind his ear and patting him on the head. “And we’re _all_ going up there.”

Reid paled, pulling away from her in shock and desperately looking at his other co-workers for salvation. “She’s kidding, right? Right guys?”

Hotch took a long pull of his beer and wiped at the condensation on the glass absently as he met Reid’s gaze. “Don’t worry Reid, I’m not going up there.”

“You will if we get you drunk enough,” Emily teased. She slid a tray of shots onto the table and pulled a stool up. “Even Reid, I bet.”

“There’s not enough alcohol in the world to get me on that stage,” Reid stated resolutely.

Morgan reached out and pulled two shots towards them before shoving one into Reid’s hand. “Want to bet on that?” he said with a dark grin. “I’ll match you drink for drink.” Reid tilted his head, mouth set.

“Oh my god.” Rossi leaned forward and looked between the two of them. “Reid don’t do it, you have so much to live for.”

Reid took the shot.

 

* * *

 

Rossi wasn’t even drunk when he ended up on the stage, one arm around a woman he’d found at the bar and happily belting out _I’ll Make a Man Outta You_ , to the delight of every woman in the room. His gaze fell on them as he leaned into the microphone and winked at Hotch, causing the stoic profiler to choke on his beer.

“I bet you were the type to cut gym,” Morgan mumbled into Reid’s ear, nudging him. Reid blinked stupidly a few times, feeling the alcohol pulling his centre of gravity off course.

“You know, there are several anachronisms throughout _Mulan_ , not quite as bad as _Pocahontas_ , but still gratuitous,” Reid began, sitting up straight with a giddy swirl of his vision as he brightened to his subject. “Firstly, the wooden cannons used—”

Morgan clapped his hand over Reid’s mouth, pushing another drink at him. “Shh, Reid. Turn off the brain and just enjoy the dulcet tones of Rossi wailing.”

 

* * *

 

At some point, Garcia had somehow managed to escape from her position between Reid and Hotch without displacing either of them. Reid threaded his eyebrows together, placing a careful hand against the back of the booth to steady himself as he examined the empty place that had contained their IT goddess.

Hotch leaned into his field of view, mouth twitching slightly as he peered into Reid’s face. “You okay?”

Reid looked up, eyes wide. “Garcia’s magic,” he whispered, glancing about to make sure she wasn’t hovering nearby. “I really think she’s magic.”

Hotch nodded wisely, his face expressionless, before sitting back up and humming along with the song playing. Reid skimmed his hand over the seat between them, testing to see if Garcia had left any residual warmth behind that could hint to when she’d disappeared.

“Are you humming along to a _Hercules_ song?” JJ asked Hotch, biting at the straw in her mouth.

“It’s Jack’s favourite song,” Hotch replied, his face softening as he talked about his son. “ _I Can Go the Distance_ … he loves it.”

“Of course he does,” Reid casually commented, picking at a loose thread on the seat and contemplating his own inebriation. “He wants to sing about being a hero like his dad.”

This time, when Hotch’s face softened, he wasn’t thinking about his son.

 

* * *

 

JJ and Emily wrapped their arms around each other as JJ hollered about becoming a king one day. Morgan leaned back and grinned as he watched them. “Aww, they’re going to rule the Pridelands together,” he chuckled, putting his arms behind his head.

“They’re actually pretty good,” Garcia commented, smiling at the two women. “I didn’t know JJ had lungs like that.

Rossi snorted ungracefully. “Somehow, I always suspected that Prentiss did.”

Reid leaned against Morgan’s side and sleepily listened to his team’s friendly banter. Morgan shook his shoulder, looking down at him. “Hey, Pretty Boy, no sleeping until you get up there and sing with me.”

Reid bolted upright, sleepiness vanishing. “Nooo, Morgan. I’m still not going to sing.”

“Morgan could sing _He’s a Tramp_ ,” Garcia said dreamily. “It would suit him. Not so much you though, Spencer.”

Morgan studied Reid for a second before taking his full glass and draining half, pushing the glass back at him. “Did you just drink my drink?” Reid asked him, his elbow slipping out from under him and almost tipping him into the table.

“Drink the rest, then we’ll sing,” Morgan advised him, cat-like grin reappearing.

Reid did as he was told. “We’ll see,” he warned his friend, but Morgan didn’t look worried.

 

* * *

 

Garcia was tearing up a little, Emily not far behind them. “Are you guys crying?” JJ asked them incredulously, peering up into their faces. Garcia covered her mouth and made a wet noise into her palms. Emily looked away sharply and furiously examining the wallpaper.

“No,” she replied, way too quickly for JJ to believe her.

“They’re just so wonderful,” Garcia sobbed, peering out from behind her fingers to watch Morgan and Reid on the stage, happily calling the lyrics to a Randy Newman song out into the crowd.

JJ shook her head in disgust at the girliness of her friends and turned her back on them to pay attention to the manlier side of the BAU instead, only to have her mouth drop open. “Rossi! Are… are you crying too?”

Rossi held his hands up in surrender, eyes glittering. “My family are Italian, we’re emotional! And they’re singing about the magic of friendship. What can I say, it’s _touching_.”

JJ turned her glare onto Hotch who shrugged. “Don’t look at me, I’m fine.”

“There isn’t anything I wouldn’t do for you!” Reid happily warbled, listing dangerously sideways on the stage before Morgan grabbed his arm to steady him and almost tumbled after him.

“Morgan better take the line about other people being smarter,” Hotch commented drily, shaking his head at his team’s inability to handle their alcohol as Garcia disappeared behind her hands again.

As Reid and Morgan somehow managed to get themselves off the stage without breaking any bones and tumble back into the booth, breathing heavily with flushed faces, JJ looked about at her team and bit at her lip. It was moments like these when she truly appreciated their closeness. There really wasn’t anything she wouldn’t do for them.

Anything.

**Author's Note:**

> **Edited August, 2017.**


End file.
